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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28643913">Willow Seeds</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToriCeratops/pseuds/ToriCeratops'>ToriCeratops</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Prodigal Son (TV 2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Accidental Baby Acquisition, First Kiss, Gentle Sex, Hint, Huddling For Warmth, Love Confessions, M/M, Power Outage, Sharing a Bed, and guess how small it is, mentions of mpreg, small time skip, there's only one bed, very</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:09:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,482</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28643913</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToriCeratops/pseuds/ToriCeratops</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Gil gets a call from Malcolm who is supposed to be relaxing upstate.</p><p>He drops everything and is there as soon as he can, getting more than he ever expected.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Willow Seeds</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/4everFlyingdragons/gifts">4everFlyingdragons</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>MIND THE "Mentions of MPREG" TAG PEEPS</p><p>Happy <i>sixtieth</i> (god, you're old) birthday to the woman who quite <i>literally</i> made me who I am today.  You're the best mom, and I still can't believe I just wrote you porn.</p><p>P.S. I promise I'll finish Worth like you asked for soon.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Somewhere, in a distant, parallel universe, Malcolm Bright gets to go on vacation and actually relax for more than 48 hours. Gil would like to visit that universe one day. Maybe it will have less snow. Around the time he's beginning to think he won't be able to make it much further, he sees a sign with the words "Serenity and Peace" and pointing right. Thank god, too. The weather forecast hadn't been this dire. He just barely manages not to ram into Malcolm's car as he pulls into the small, snow covered drive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Said cabin is a little more... quaint... than Gil had expected to find Malcolm in. Though he's never been one to require as much luxury as his mother, he's not exactly the 'roughing it' type either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Gil?" Malcolm opens the door wearing a thick, slouchy sweater and plaid flannel pants that have fur sticking out around the ankles over his socked feet. It's... a pleasant sight. But Gil makes sure not to react. He's barely admitted to himself that he'd like to see more of this look. Like hell he's ever going to let Malcolm find out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Only you would go away to a meditation retreat and wind up finding a dead body in the woods," Gil says with a small, crooked grin and a chuckle. "You gonna let an old man in out of the snow?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After gaping for a moment, Malcolm nods and steps aside. “What are you doing here?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You called and seemed kind of stressed so I hopped in the car and started driving.”  He doesn’t actually know why he felt like he needed to.  It’s not like Malcolm needs rescuing.  The man is perfectly capable of taking care of himself.  Especially when it comes to stumbling over a random crime out in the woods.  More than likely, he’d need someone to hold him back and let the local law enforcement officials do their job without getting in the way.  But the stress in his voice had lit a fire in Gil and he’d been twenty miles out of the city before he realized he was ‘going to the rescue’ in a situation he probably wasn’t needed.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he’s here now.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the weather has assured him he isn’t going anywhere. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm takes a step closer then cringes back a little as if he’s second guessing himself.  “My knight in shining armor,” he says with a half hearted laugh.  “I didn’t actually need any help when I called, even if I did seem a little out of it.  But…” A sound from a little further in the large, one room cabin interrupts him.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a cry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A baby's cry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Uh.... Bright?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, shi... shoot." Malcolm crosses the room and grabs the squirming bundle from the center of his bed and picks it up, holding the infant close to his chest and immediately shushing it with a pat on the back and a slow, steady bounce.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All Gil can do is stand there just inside the door and stare, dumbfounded. There had been zero mention of a baby in that call a few hours ago and Gil knows that would have been the first thing Malcolm brought up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay, what the hell?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm glares at Gil and covers one of the infant's ears. "It's a long story." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glancing out of the window at where the snow is already piling up on the LeMans, Gil tuts. "I think we've got time," he insists. Because seriously, what?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a long, exasperated sigh, Malcolm begins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Shortly after I called you, the local law enforcement cleared the crime scene. They roped off the cabin and headed back to town to try and beat the snow. It's a good hour hike back here so I headed out too. Maybe... fifteen minutes after parting in opposite directions... I heard her." He looks down at the top of the baby's head with a sad smile that makes Gil's chest clench. Whatever is going on, it's not good. "She was curled up in a thick blanket in the bottom of a tree and tucked into the top of her diaper bag - thank god. I don't know how I would have kept her fed if she hadn't had some formula tucked into the thing. But, anyway, I kept trying to call the sheriff back but couldn't get through to anyone. I was back here by the time I got connected and the snow was coming down thick. Once we confirmed she wasn't hypothermic or in need of emergency services they let me know someone would come as soon as they could." The whole time he speaks Malcolm never looks up from the little girl in his arms who appears to be quite awake now - no doubt thanks to Gil's arrival - and is staring right back up at him, quiet and awed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's a sight Gil has never ever imagined seeing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, he moves, stepping further into the cabin, one small step at a time, to get a better look at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There's... so much to unpack and Gil doesn't even know where to begin. So he huffs out a lost sounding laugh and shakes his head. "You're turning into a regular Jessica Fletcher. Can't go anywhere without murder and Mayhem." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I prefer to think of myself as Colombo," Malcolm responds without missing a beat, his grin growing just a touch.  He glances up at Gil. His eyes are bright, reflecting the flickering firelight. "But either way neither of them ever wound up with an infant."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though Gil can't confirm or refute that claim - it's not like he's got all of the episode plots just running around in his head - he doesn't say anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, he just watches for a minute as Malcolm turns his attention back to the baby girl, shushing her again as she begins to fuss and make small coos and whimpers. It's a fascinating sight, and honestly, Gil has no idea how much time passes as he just... watches. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You never said why you really came," Malcolm points out eventually, not looking up. "I sound stressed all the time, and don't try to tell me I don't. It's why I came out here for an extended weekend." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes Gil a second to process Malcolm's words, but when he does he laughs and shakes his head before sitting down on the edge of the bed and looking up at the younger man. "You mean why did I drop everything without a second thought because I thought you needed me?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm looks up from the baby then, eyes wide and shocked, with no small amount of hope lighting them up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I keep you on the NYPD payroll because you're the best profiler in the country. You tell me." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm stares, mouth agape, for a long, drawn out beat before he fights to hold back a smile. "Even the best profilers can be biased by their own... desires... sometimes." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which tells Gil everything he needs to know. His heart swells with more hope than he'd thought to have in a long time, but before he can assure Malcolm his desires aren't biased, the familiar creak of wood popping and splitting can be heard over the din of the storm outside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both look up in alarm and Gil moves quickly, grabbing Malcolm and the baby and tossing them to the bed where he easily covers them both with his own body. And just in time, as the second he's in place comes the loud crash of a tree connecting with the ground, followed by an explosion of glass and heat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, Gil hadn't removed any of his winter gear yet and that keeps the bulk of the glass that explodes from the window above the bed away from all of them. He might have a nick or two on the back of his head, but he knows the moment the only sound around them is the storm once more that they've gotten away relatively unscathed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So far. "Are you alright?" He asks Malcolm over the sudden wail of the infant between them and the storm outside (now also inside) before looking up to assess the damage. The power is out, the bed is covered in glass and starting to get covered in snow from the window that was blown out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, but I think that was our gas tank," Malcolm says as he sits up carefully, keeping his feet hovering over the ground to avoid stepping in glass. His socks may be thick enough to keep him warm inside, but they won't protect him from glass shards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Alright," Gil says, suddenly in command mode. "You stay put for a second, keep that baby warm. My first goal is to get you and her over by the fireplace away from this glass. Then I'll board up the window..." he looks around the one room cabin, seeing a few measly pieces of furniture he might be able to scavenge for wood. "...somehow, and clean this up. Then we'll figure out what to do from there, alright?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, yeah, that's... good. Right. And hand me my phone and yours. Hopefully one of us will have some signal." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil does exactly what he says, getting just enough glass out of the way to get Malcolm over to the other side of the room. He checks his own coat for shards before laying it over the two of them where they sit next to the fire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Malcolm opens his mouth to protest, Gil cuts him off. "I can't be sure there isn't any glass in the blankets. So until I do, you two get this." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"At least let me help." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're helping by keeping that baby girl warm," Gil assures him with a hand on his shoulder and a light squeeze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Malcolm can say anything else, Gil gets to work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the bottom of the closet, Gil finds a tool box stuffed full. Thankfully, hidden in there is a hammer, and there are just enough nails left in a crushed box near the bottom he thinks he can get a decent barrier put up on the window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Next problem is, there's no actual wood to use. Oh, there's plenty for the fire, and he's sure somewhere nearby is a shed with more tools he could work something up. But the snow is coming in fast and he doesn't have time for that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You okay paying some damage fees, kid?" Gil asks, pulling out one of the drawers of the dresser to inspect it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That gets a laugh from Malcolm. "Do what you have to, I'll apologize to Eva and pay to have everything replaced even nicer than before."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a shake of his head, Gil gets the last of the drawers out and kicks out the back panel from the dresser. It's the right size to cover the width of the window, and a few of the drawer bottoms will make up the gap at the bottom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He works as quickly as he can, feeling himself heat up and begin to sweat beneath his many layers despite the ice and snow biting at his nose. The second he gets the last panel over the window, he can already feel the difference it makes. Oh, he's still freezing, and they're going to have to stay practically IN the fire once night hits, but it still makes a difference.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I've got to admit," Malcolm pipes up while Gil is inspecting the edges of his work. "Watching you be all manly and handy around the house wasn't something I was expecting to do this weekend." He pauses, and his next statement sounds a little more cautious. "But I'm not complaining." When Gil turns around he sees a small smirk on Malcolm's lips and a tiny, chubby hand reaching for his chin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It melts Gil's heart. (Though his nose is still thoroughly frozen.) "And I wasn't expecting to see you cooing at a baby, but here we are." Gil holds his arms out wide then lets them fall to the side. "And, well, uh, same..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a little more work, Gil has the blankets from the bed shaken out - the top one a lost cause and too wet to boot - and the glass swept up as well as he can manage. Malcolm helps him, despite GIl's protest, after curling the baby up in Gil's jacket and laying her carefully at the back of the single, overstuffed chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"She's not even old enough to hold her head up yet, she won't roll over, and she won't freeze in the time it takes to finish this," he insists, then bites his bottom lip. "And you're moving a little slower, so I figure the sooner we get this taken care of the sooner you can sit down, too."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though Gil hasn't noticed any lagging, he does feel a bit of a buzz in his head. Likely from a combination of the blast and the cold and the exertion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But when he runs his fingers through his hair he realizes there's moisture there... "I..." knowing exactly what he'll see when he pulls his hand back Gil purses his lips then wiggles his deep red fingers. "Maybe I should sit down now, actually. After cleaning up myself a bit..." He doesn't feel bad, and he knows he didn't get a hard enough blow to do serious damage, but it could easily have been several slices across the back of his head from the glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Malcolm notices he frowns and sighs heavily. "And you complain about how I never take care of myself."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil rolls his eyes and grabs a hand towel from the counter in the kitchen space to dab at the back of his head with. Then he sits rather gingerly back against the counter with a very pointed look in Malcolm's direction. "Do you see what I'm doing right now?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm dumps the last of the glass shards into the trash bin. "Taking care of yourself?" He asks, one brow raised before he shivers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That's when Gil notices he's still only in his sweater, socks, and flannel pants. And the temperature has plummeted since he arrived. Before he can say anything, though, Malcolm is at Gil's side and guiding him to turn around so he can see the back of Gil's head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why don't we go sit in front of the fire, you can hold the little Willow seed and I'll take care of this. There's still glass up here." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil nods, then wishes he hadn't. "Only if you promise to put on another layer and wrap up in a blanket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah yeah. Go. Sit."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While Gil does as he's told he watches Malcolm grab a large pot, fill it with water, then stick it next to the fire before grabbing another hand towel and all the blankets Gil had shaken out earlier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, he turns back to the baby. Who is staring at him, bright green eyes wide and inquisitive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Willow seed huh?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's the kind of tree I found her under," Malcolm says, voice only slightly muffled by the sweater he's in the middle of pulling over his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, with his hand cradled at the base of her skull, Gil takes the little girl in his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's been so long since he's held an infant for any length of time. Years. And it's not like he'd made a habit of it in the first place. She's so small, fitting easily into the crook of one arm. He finally gets a good, close look at her, her pale skin and soft wisps of red hair are like silk. He's so fucking enraptured by her - and her him - that he barely notices when Malcolm wraps a thick blanket around his shoulders, settles on the chair behind him, guiding Gil to to shift so that his back is to the fire and Malcolm can see.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hears a sigh before there's a wet, warm cloth pressed to the back of his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Still no signal on either phone," Malcolm says, dabbing the wounds a few times before Gil can feel the gentle touch of his fingers parting strands of his hair bit by bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You've got enough firewood in here to keep a fire going for at least a week. If the storm lasts that long, we've got other problems,” Gil starts.  The baby makes a soft sound and Gil can't help but smile down at her, moving his head around and making a face. "Don't we? Do you have enough food? I hope so." Malcolm places his hands on either side of Gil's face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hold still," he admonishes quietly, though Gil can hear the smile in his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil does as he's told, again, flinching occasionally when Malcolm finds a piece of glass that seems to not want to let go. But they fall quiet for a while, Gil making faces (without moving his head) much to the amusement of the baby in his arms who smiles, mouth wide and gums showing, a little giggle of an almost laugh that gurgles out occasionally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So what happened?" Gil finally asks while Malcolm's fingers are still gliding slowly through his hair. "I'm assuming the woman you found was her mother." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Likely," Malcolm says. "The front door of the cabin was kicked in, and there had obviously been a struggle. The cabin wasn't hers, or if it was, she hadn't actually been staying there. The bed wasn't made and there weren't any bags laying around. Sheriff said there weren't any clothes there either. I'm convinced she was running from someone. Maybe an abusive spouse, or little Willow's father. After I found her I tried to look around and see if anyone else had been nearby but... as much as my instructor at Quantico tried, I never really got the hang of tracking...."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil can't help but chuckle. His finger is captured by a tiny, soft hand and he can't quit smiling himself. Girl's got a good grip. "Can you imagine him wandering around out in the woods? That City Boy? Though I guess you don't have to imagine, he did find you out there." She reaches for his facial hair with her free hand and gets a fistful, giving it a quick tug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"To be fair, I was just out for a run. On a very well beaten path."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which doesn't surprise him at all. Malcolm has had an aversion to the outdoors as long as he's known him. The only reason he even came here (at least, the reason he gave Gil) is that everything was taken care of. Oh, he'll go out when he needs to, but he doesn't usually volunteer.... "So how's it look, doc?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"A little scratched up, but I'm pretty sure I got all of the glass. You'll probably be tender for a while and I don't want to even think about how much blood you lost before we stopped it." His hands are still moving, occasionally dipping down into the warm pot of water that's still sitting between the chair and the fire. He works slowly, and Gil can tell he's cleaning the blood out of his hair now instead of glass or actually tending to the wounds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The whole house rattles with the wind and the storm, the fire crackling beside them while Malcolm works and Gil keeps the baby entertained with his fingers and silly faces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the storm, despite the freezing cold and the situation, Gil feels indescribably warm. But the peace doesn't last, and after Malcolm brings back two more, clean pots of water to warm by the fire and starts making sure Gil's hair is dry, someone starts to fuss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"She's probably getting hungry again," Malcolm says. That's when Gil turns and sees he's got a bottle with powder in the bottom in his lap, apparently just waiting for the water to warm before he mixes it up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We should figure out how we're going to sleep tonight, too." Even before the incident with the tree outside (he's pretty sure it knocked down a power line before hitting the gas tank which caused the explosion - because that doesn't just happen from impact) sleeping arrangements hadn't exactly been clear. There's only one bed and Gil doesn't know how many blankets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it's not exactly a large one, at that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We're going to have to curl up together," Malcolm says, staring into the flames. "Keep her and each other warm. Maybe pull the mattress over here close to the fire. The blankets are wide enough we should be able to keep them over all of us..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Is it safe to do that? With the baby?" Gil's never really been one to read up on parenting information. It wasn't that he'd never wanted kids or anything, but he never craved it. And he and Jackie had always just said 'eventually'.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he does know you're not supposed to have the baby sleep in the bed. He'd responded to enough of those during his time in uniform.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes a few moments for Malcolm to respond, but he points out, "In this case, we have to weigh the pros and cons. I think It's more dangerous for her to not stay in there with us given the temperatures." Her fussing has become worse, and she seems to be just on the edge of full on crying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Alright," Gil says. "You feed her and I'll get everything set up?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm carefully pours the water from one of the pots into the bottle in his hand, shakes it up, then resettles in his little nest of blankets. "Sounds good." Carefully, Gil leans in to hand her off. They both move slowly, arms brushing, close enough he can feel the minuscule amount of warmth coming from the younger man. For a moment they stay there, staring at her as she starts to calm down a touch, but then they both look up, and they're far too close.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil can taste Malcolm's breath on his lips. "I'll uh," he clears his throat and stands as Malcolm watches him go, blue eyes never leaving his. "I'll get the bed ready."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There's a spin to Gil's head and a twist in his gut, both of which he ignores completely once he finally turns away from the pair. He's been dealing with these feelings for a few months now, but nothing had prepared him for watching Malcolm like this, quiet, intimate. It's like everything is slamming into him all at once and he's not entirely convinced he's going to survive it all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After checking the bed one last time for any lingering pieces of glass, Gil pulls on the mattress and gets it to the floor, sliding it over to the fireplace so that one long side is facing the direct heat. He lays a fresh flat sheet on top, then grabs the largest blanket he can find and tucks three sides in under the edges to help keep in their warmth once they crawl inside. Then the rest of the blankets except the one that had been covered in glass and snow, and finally, he pulls a couple of fresh pillows he'd found in the top of the closet earlier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he's setting a few more logs on the fire, Gil hears a frustrated noise from Malcolm. He turns, and raises a single brow in question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm just trying to think of how we should lay so she's warm but safe. We can't lay a blanket around her head, she could suffocate. And I'm terrified of putting her between us and," </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"She can sleep on your chest," Gil says quietly, moving towards them and kneeling in front of Malcolm. He carefully slips his hands into the bunched up folds of his jacket - which is still swaddled around the little Willow seed - and smiles at Malcolm's confused look once he finds what he's looking for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil pulls out a piece of thick, knit blue fabric and smooths it out to show him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You have an NYPD Beanie?" Malcolm asks, chest shaking a little with silent laughter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sometimes my ears get cold." Gil carefully, so as not to disturb her eating, slips the fabric over the curve of her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's way too big for her, and slips down past her eyes at first, which makes her shake her head until Gil manages to bunch it up just enough it settles over her brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After helping her settle back into nursing her bottle, Malcolm smiles, warm and brilliant. "She looks like a rookie." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"She'll be the best damn rookie. Top of her class at the academy and everything."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They let the little one finish her bottle, Gil realizing when she's almost done that he never stood up from where he kneels in front of them. He's got one arm pressed against Malcolm's leg and the other curled around the baby while the two of them make wild assumptions about what she's going to be like one day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's a fun little distraction from their current situation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which they're reminded of in a rather unexpected way a few minutes later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm has her laying on the bed, a fresh diaper and wipes next to him while Gil takes inventory of the bag.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"There's plenty of formula," he says, shaking the mostly full canister. "But..." Gil holds up the three diapers that are left. And, as he's already admitted to himself, he's no baby expert, but even he knows that won't last terribly long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm cringes. "I can... put her in one of my sweaters if I have to." When Gil makes a face (reflexively, and he hides it quick) Malcolm hums in agreement. "It's not the most appealing situation. But it's better than her starving or freezing to death. Running out of diapers is actually the best thing for us to run out of right now - if it has to be something." It's not like Gil can argue with that, so he doesn't. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, he kicks out of his shoes and helps Malcolm finish up, picking up the baby once they're done. Malcolm gets in first while Gil holds her, rocking a little to help her continue on her journey to nodding off. Hopefully she's a good sleeper. Once he's situated, they fold the covers back just enough he can place her carefully, chest down on Malcolm's chest, where she settles and seems to fall asleep almost instantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll be damned," Gil whispers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Language," Malcolm chides him, though there's a glint of humor in his gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After rolling his eyes, Gil takes a moment to check the boarded up window and the fire before crawling in beside Malcolm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm is on his back on the side closest to the fire and there's only enough room for Gil to lay on his side. Which should be awkward. Tense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But once he's in, and they've both adjusted and gotten comfortable, Gil finds himself with one arm under his own head, propping himself up, the other wrapped around Malcolm and the baby, bodies pressed together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he’s relaxed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Comfortable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like he's supposed to be here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a while, they lay there, Malcolm staring down at the baby on his chest while stroking her back, Gil watching both of them. His thoughts are almost as torrential as the wind outside, swirling and crashing against one another over and over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This morning he'd gotten up, alone, like he always does these days, and headed to work in the dreary bleak cold of New York city. Now, he's upstate, trapped in a cabin with a blown out window, a mysterious baby, and the young man he's cared for over twenty years. The young man he's only recently realized he cares for a little more than he used to. A little differently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he doesn't want to leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though he could do without the blown out window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, what Gil wants is this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Gil?" Malcolm says his name so softly it almost blends in with the rattle of the cabin and the soft, snap and crackle of the burning logs. He turns his head and blinks up at Gil... swallows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why did you come?" Gil swears the whole world halts at Malcolm's repeated question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why did he come? Even though he quit denying it to himself a few months back, Gil's never said it out loud, because if he does then it's out there, real, and fucking fragile. And he doesn't know if he can take it. Wouldn't survive the shatter a second time in one night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I thought you knew why," he says, voice cracked as he stumbles over his avoidance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Malcolm doesn't let him slip away, doesn't give him an inch. No, Malcolm shifts impossibly closer and grips Gil's hand, adjusting the both so they're resting gently over the infant above Malcolm, fingers entwined.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I need to hear you say it." There's a warmth in Malcolm's smile, worried as he is. And more than that, a light in his eyes, reflecting the breadth and depth of his soul that Gil has been falling into for the last two years, with no help of stopping himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now, he realizes the only way out is through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I thought you needed me. Or at the very least, could use a little support. And I have come to realize, recently, that I would do damn near anything in the world for you, kid. More than I ever thought possible. And I need you to know that, that I..." his heart is caught in his throat, his hand shaking in Malcolm's. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"...Gil. Please."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I love you, Malcolm. I have for..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's cut off by Malcolm's lips on his, a gentle press of lips as he shifts up just enough to meet Gil. Chaste, but deep, lingering. Gil leans in further, glides their lips together for several eons, or rather, several heartbeats. It's the same difference in the moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they stop, they're still sharing the same breath, noses brushing as Malcolm huffs out a laugh. "I probably shouldn't admit how long I've loved you, should I?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil can't help but kiss him again, but then nods. "Maybe we'll touch on that one day.. but not right now." A soft noise grabs their attention, and they both look down to catch the baby stuffing her fist in her mouth to start sucking on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Was there a pacifier in the bag?" Gil asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm shakes his head. "Just her food and diapers. Paci would have been nice the first couple of hours though."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's surprisingly easy, slipping into whatever this is, grinning at each other, wide and dopey looks on their faces. "You're good with her, you know." Gil points out, rubbing his thumb across Malcolm's fingers. "She's calm with you, and I'll admit I was a little surprised at how well you fed and changed her - like an old pro. Didn't think you had any experience with kids at all."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm shakes his head. "None whatsoever. But, come on, this is the easy stuff, right? Mechanical bits. Things that can be read on an instruction page like on the side of the formula canister." He's looking at the baby again, fond, and somewhat wistful. Gil can imagine what he considers the hard parts. The emotional bits. The complicated things like attachment and love that had been so twisted around him as a kid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Had been used against him more often than not. "You want kids?" Gil toys with the bottom of the beanie, careful not to jostle or wake her while he makes sure it's nice and snug, warm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though it takes him a minute to get there, Malcolm eventually shrugs as much as he can in their little cocoon, eyes never leaving the baby.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I shouldn't," he admits in a whisper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's not a no, kid." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, well. What about you? Why aren't there any little Arroyo's running around. I know you like kids." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil doesn't say anything about the deflection, just pretends to think it over for a moment then sighs. "Married late. Then it was too soon. Then it wasn't the right time. And then it was too late." It's an old ache, the loss in his heart. But it's not as devastating as it once was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry I shouldn't have..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't," Gil cuts him off. "It's a part of my past. Our past," he amends. Because Malcolm had been in his life even before he met Jackie. "If we're going to do... this," he says with a squeeze to Malcolm's hand. "We can't ignore the past. We have to acknowledge it and keep moving forward."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm stares at him once more, wide eyed and silent for a long breath then surges up to kiss him. It's a little deeper this time, more pointed. But they both part before it gets too heated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Together?" he asks, sounding more unsure than Gil has heard from him in years. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, kid. Together."</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <em>
      <strong>Three Months Later</strong>
    </em>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think someone is finally nodding off for a long overdue nap.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil watches with a wide grin as Samantha blinks several times while trying to keep her head up and continue to pay attention to the three adults sitting around her.  After the third time she nearly drops Malcolm scoops her up into his arms and starts to rock her gently, softly smiling down at her.  In turn, Samantha lets out a gentle sigh, grins, and closes her eyes.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s nothing in the world I could say to let you two know how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for us.”  Eva, the owner of the newly refurbished cabin and Samantha’s aunt, watches them both closely.  Apparently, she owns a good portion of the cabins in the vicinity and her sister had been trying to hide from her stalker - and, unfortunately, Samantha’s father - when he’d caught up with her.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We would do it all again in a heartbeat,” Gil assures her, placing his hand on hers with a reassuring touch.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And then some,” Malcolm adds.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s been a long few months, for Eva and Samantha, but Malcolm has made sure she never had to worry about paying for anything her insurance didn’t cover for the cabin, or any legal fees concerning making sure Samantha stayed with her.  He admitted to Gil exactly </span>
  <em>
    <span>once </span>
  </em>
  <span>that he was very quietly willing to do even more just to have an excuse to see the baby girl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fire cracks and pops, filling the cabin with a pleasant warmth to cut through the early spring chill.  But that has nothing on the way Gil’s chest feels when he looks at Malcolm now, quiet and content and so full of joy to be holding the child in his arms again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eva gives Gil a sideways smirk, but addresses Malcolm.  “You would make an amazing dad, you know.  Have one of your own and give Samantha a friend to see whenever you visit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ahhh…”  Malcolm chuckles with a nervous twist to his lips.  “Probably not, honestly.  I’ll likely have to be content with being the cool uncle who fills kids with sugar then hands them back.” He shifts to transition a sleeping Samantha into her aunt’s arms as he speaks, a touch of sadness in his gaze as he does so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eva nods.  “I’d always expected the same of myself honestly.”  She bites her lip, eyes moist with sudden unshed tears, but still smiles.  “You never know.”  After clearing her throat, she looks up with a brilliant smile once more.  “But!  As soon as she can have sugar, I’ll happily hand her off to her coolest uncle… uncles… every once in a while.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes a few minutes to get coats and bags together, and Gil is plenty happy to help get the sleeping infant snugly into her car seat while Malcolm loads up the gifts they had bought next to the diaper bag in Eva’s trunk.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eva’s car disappears into the trees before Malcolm finally turns to go inside, and even then, he’s reluctant.  But Gil stays at his side, a gentle hand at the small of his back until they’re both in with the door shut behind them.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm turns the moment it is and slides his hands up the soft fabric of Gil’s sweater and over his shoulders, lifting up on his toes to press a long, gentle kiss to his lips.  It’s deep and tender and Gil absolutely melts into it, wrapping his arms around Malcolm to hold him close, pull their bodies flush.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No matter what he told Eva, or what he says to literally anyone but Gil, Malcolm does want children.  He’s just terrified of it.  And they’re working through that.  Slowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’ve got time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For now, Malcolm is perfectly happy to ‘practice’ and Gil’s not exactly about to complain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I’m getting a little chill,” Malcolm teases, a playful smirk against Gil’s lips.  He pretends to shiver.  The movement makes his whole body slide against Gil’s and even through their many layers of fabric it sends jolts of heat and desire through every inch of his nerves.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, Gil guides him backwards until they’re at the bed (it’s not far) and guides him down to lay across the mattress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t you let me warm you up, hm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm’s laughter is bright but Gil swallows it up with another kiss as he lays across the younger man, slipping a hand beneath his grey sweater to tug the button up beneath it from his pants.  Finally, he gets under the last layer of his undershirt and feels the warmth of Malcolm’s skin and the dusting of hair at the base of his abdomen.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This would be so much easier if you just wore simple clothes,” Gil points out between kisses, luxuriating in the simple touch.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil hisses when Malcolm gives his hair a little tug in retaliation before going back to running his fingers through it.  “This is your sweater, you know,” Malcolm points out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With an exaggerated frown Gil pulls back to give Malcolm a long once over.  He already looks far more rumpled than he ever lets anyone see him, his hair mussed, lips red and kiss swollen.  More importantly, there’s the barest hint of flesh visible at the bottom of his (Gil’s) sweater.  He looks delicious like this.  And to be honest, he could wear Gil’s clothes every day and he’d never complain about it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought it looked familiar,” he says with an exaggerated hum.  “It does look good on you.  Maybe you should just leave it on.”  Gil gives the sweater a little tug while barely biting back a laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Malcolm…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm looks </span>
  <em>
    <span>offended.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>For a second he gapes at Gil who’s shoulders start to shake.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It </span>
  <em>
    <span>would </span>
  </em>
  <span>help you keep warm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a flash Malcolm has said garment tugged up and off his body, tossed across the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The laughter that bubbles out of Gil’s chest feels so damn good, and they’re both smiling as they kiss once more, uncoordinated and a bit messy.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though their laughter dies the smiles never really fade, and bit by bit, button by button, they come closer together.  Each touch is a tender caress, Malcolm dragging Gil’s shirt up and over his shoulders with a slow, sensual drag of his fingers.  Gil trails flutters of kiss after kiss up Malcolm’s abdomen and chest as he works his final layer up and off until they’re finally chest to chest, Malcolm hooking one leg around Gil’s hips so their shared arousal begins to press against one another, spreading heat through Gil’s skin like nothing else does as they continue to touch and kiss and taste one another.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unwilling to wait </span>
  <em>
    <span>much </span>
  </em>
  <span>longer, Gil works at Malcolm’s pants.  It’s an awkward angle to open his button and zipper since neither of them want to move far from the other, Malcolm constantly tugging Gil back in close when he tries to pull away for room to work.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Gil can’t help but laugh when Malcolm all but yanks him back up when Gil tries to work his way down Malcolm’s chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to taste you,” Gil complains, voice muffled against Malcolm’s lips.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘M </span>
  <em>
    <span>cold,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Malcolm pouts, wiggling a little.  “You’re supposed to be keeping me warm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil rolls his eyes, smirking, then grabs the thick, oversized blanket from the foot of the bed to wrap around the both of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that better?” He asks while slipping his hand into Malcolm’s underwear to distract him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gets a gasp of pleasure and Malcolm arching against him with a quick nod.  The gasp becomes a long, drawn out hum while Gil watches the younger man.  He loves the way he looks like this, just starting to slip into the haze of pure pleasure.  There are occasional glimpses of bright blue from his fluttering eyelids, the hint of pink on his cheeks becoming a deep, flushed red.  And the way his lips part and hang open, catching every breath he can as Gil starts to work his length… he is a vision.  Gil can and has gotten lost in this, dragged it out for ages to see just how far he can take it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm holds onto Gil with one hand while the other is twisted into the sheet below them, clenching with a white knuckled hold while Gil works, using all the tricks and movements he’s learned Malcolm loves over the last few months.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t feel long before Malcolm is lifting his hips up even more, encouraging Gil to take it further, to move things along.  But Gil is nothing if not stubborn - and patient - and Malcolm eventually takes things into his own hands and shoves his pants and underwear down to kick off on his own.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thought you were cold.”  Gil quips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm gives him a withering look that vanishes with a quick flick of Gil’s wrist.  “You’ve got me plenty heated up,” Malcolm assures him.  “Come on, Gil.  I need you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s impossibly to say no to that, to the way Malcolm begs, to the light of desire in his brilliant eyes.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After divesting himself of the rest of his own clothes, Gil works Malcolm open slowly.  He takes his sweet time to string him along the edge for as long as he can until he’s begging for it.  But it’s Gil who gives in first, who can’t wait any longer and needs to feel the way Malcolm’s body molds around his, the heat and the tightness from where they come together.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They fuck gently, bodies entwined, skin to skin as close as they can possibly be as they find their rhythm.  They share kisses and touches and heated, gasping breaths.  When the blanket falls to the side and the cold air hits Gil’s glistening skin he barely even notices, so enraptured by the way Malcolm takes him in over and over.  He rocks deep, pleasure growing between them until Malcolm begins to shake, grips at Gil’s body, his hair, with a tightness that tugs and bruises.  His breath becomes a quick succession of gasps for air, never quite letting go as he arches against Gil who picks up the pace, right on the edge himself as Malcolm starts to tighten around him, a chant of Gil’s name light on his lips.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck…”  Gil grits out, moving faster still, hitting deep with every thrust.  “I’m gonna come, Malcolm…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t… don’t stop.  God, don’t you dare stop,” Malcolm begs, holding him impossibly tighter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that what you want?  You want my come, baby?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes… yes, please.  Gil… I want…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil knows what he wants, can picture it.  And despite knowing it won’t happen, that Malcolm is very carefully medicated to ensure it </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>happen, just the thought, the idea, sends him over the edge.  With visions of Malcolm, glowing, happy, round and heavy with their child, Gil’s body tightens for one last thrust before he feels the rush of release.  Lightning courses through his veins, muscles trembling with the heady feeling as he spills deep in Malcolm’s body.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he stops Malcolm keeps his legs tight around Gil’s middle, holding him close, tugging him in for a lingering, sleepy kiss.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” Malcolm says quietly, a prayer whispered against Gil’s lips.  Then he kisses him again and Gil can’t answer for a long time.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not out loud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He answers in the way he touches his lover, in the way he swallows his kisses, returns the gesture a thousand times over.  In the way he holds him close and keeps him warm.  In the way he grabs the edge of a blanket and somehow manages to toss it over the both of them without breaking apart.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And still, Malcolm doesn’t let him go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, if he’s being honest, Gil hopes he never does.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>No really, she's actually my mother.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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